


variantology drabbles

by grilledcheezer



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Drabble drabble, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Team Awesome, Varian-centric, smol collection for our smol boy, updating tags as i go!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:40:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23515576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grilledcheezer/pseuds/grilledcheezer
Summary: Just a smol collection of one-shots focused on our smol boy. Prompts are from Project Obsidian's Variantology!
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Varian, Quirin & Varian (Disney)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 174





	1. my son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✧ Prompt #1: Father & Son

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Is he really your son?”

Throughout the years, Quirin had been asked this question so many times that he’d lost track of the exact number sometime around Varian’s seventh birthday. Or perhaps he’d simply stopped counting. Either way, it was an inquiry that came up far too often for his liking.

The questions first started when Varian was one.

With his wife gone, Quirin had been left to raise his son alone, and the villagers of Old Corona had, in turn, left _him_ to grieve alone. But when the initial pain finally dulled down to a somewhat manageable sadness, Quirin began to socialize more, often taking his young son along with him on his excursions into town.

He felt it immediately; the curious gazes of the townsfolk as they eyed not only him, the previously-secluded village leader who had rarely been seen since his wife’s death, but also Varian, who’d almost never been seen _at all_.

Quirin thought nothing of it initially; they were probably just surprised to see that he was leaving the house after so long.

Their unspoken words only came forth when he stopped by the local bakery to pick up some bread. The baker, an older man with steely grey eyes and a wispy beard, stared at the bundle in Quirin’s arms before handing him his purchase.

“Is he really your son?”

The man’s voice was hesitant, his question so soft that Quirin almost hadn’t heard it at first. There had been no ill-intent behind the baker’s words. In fact, they seemed to come from a place of both curiosity and pity; curiosity because the child hadn’t been seen since birth, and pity for the man who was left to raise him without the mother.

Quirin responded, smiling sadly as he cradled the sleeping boy in his arms, before leaving the shop.

-

The second time Quirin remembered being asked that question, his son was five.

Varian had been napping peacefully in his room while Quirin was in his study, meeting with the leader of a nearby village.

They were only about halfway through their discussion about the new crop distribution system when Quirin looked up to discover that a pair of bright blue eyes were staring back at him, his son’s tiny body halfway-hidden by the door frame.

Upon noticing his father’s realization, Varian waddled into the room, oblivious to the other man’s presence. One of his hands was clutching onto a stuffed bear, while the other reached out towards his father’s open arms.

The village leader, Tomas, smiled warmly as he watched Quirin pick up his son.

The man’s eyes darted between the pair, taking note of their vastly different appearances. Quirin’s rough, rectangular-shaped face, dark eyes, and brown hair juxtaposed the black-haired, blue-eyed boy whose soft cheeks had been sprinkled lightly by a dash of freckles.

“Is he really your son?”

Quirin was surprised; up until that point he’d never really focused on the physical dissimilarities between himself and his son. But now, he was beginning to see it.

Varian took after his mother quite clearly; both his eyes and freckles had come from her. And, when his face would later lose its roundness and begin to take on more of a shape, he would resemble her even more.

-

When Varian was nine, he’d already surpassed each and every one of his classmates ten times over.

Whenever his father would question why he wasn’t doing the work he _knew_ was assigned to him for school, Varian would claim that he’d finished it before the lesson had even ended. Quirin was dubious, but he’d never known his son to lie. So, he let it go.

Until, that is, his teacher called him in to discuss Varian’s progress in school.

Quirin sat across from the teacher, a young blonde with a nasally voice, earnestly inquiring about why he had been called in. The woman blinked, shock overtaking her features when she realized which student the man sitting in front of her was the parent of.

“Is he really your son?”

This time, the person asking the question wasn’t doing so because they’d doubted their relation due to physical appearance. Quite the opposite, in fact.

The teacher explained to a stunned Quirin that his son was, it seemed, a _genius_ for his age _._ He outperformed his classmates in every subject, and he spent his free time drawing up schematics since he always finished the assigned work before the class was even halfway over.

The teacher suggested moving Varian up to a higher grade level, and encouraged Quirin to nurture his son’s capacity for learning, particularly in the scientific field.

He understood now, why she’d doubted their familial connection; Quirin was nowhere near the smartest person in Old Corona. Sure, he was a great fighter and strategist, but he’d never excelled academically; not like _this._

Yet again, it seemed that this was something else that Varian had taken after from his mother.

-

By age eleven, Quirin’s son had already been the cause of multiple alchemy-related mishaps throughout the village.

The explosions that followed his failed inventions would have Quirin racing towards the origin of the sound, his heart caught in his throat as he always imagined the worst. _“Was he okay?”_ was the only question he needed an answer to, every time he bolted toward Varian’s latest experiment.

There were times he was okay, there were times he wasn’t. But Quirin had been there each time, patching up his son’s injuries and helping him clean up the newest mess he’d unintentionally created.

He reprimanded him, of course; Varian was often scolded for his recklessness by his father, and for good reason.

But the Old Coronans were growing wary. One of the farmers had approached Quirin, fearing for the safety of his home and children.

“Is he really your son?”

This time, the tone of the phrase had shifted slightly; it was no longer a curious inquiry, but rather a cautious one. With every new explosion that happened, even if it was within Varian’s own lab, the townspeople began to question the trust they had placed in their village leader.

After all, if he couldn’t even control his own son — whose actions seemed to be the biggest threat to the village itself — how could he protect them?

The apprehensive comments continued until Varian was fourteen; then, when he lost his father to the amber, he was abandoned by all those hehad previously shared a home with.

-

When Quirin had been freed from his year-long prison, he was overjoyed to finally be reunited with his son.

Varian had rushed to him, tears flowing freely as he skidded to his knees to embrace his father. They had stayed there in each other’s arms for some time; Quirin hugging his son, whose breaths hitched as his trembling form clung to his father’s waist as if he feared he would slip through his fingers in an instant.

It had taken awhile for the shock to wear off, but when it did, both father and son exchanged many words.

Quirin told Varian the words he’d desperately longed to hear his entire life: _“I’m proud of you”._ Varian, on the other hand, poured out the events his father had missed out on during his imprisonment; the fight with Rapunzel, his time in jail, and the recent Sapporian incident.

Quirin had been overwhelmed, at first.

It was difficult to believe his son had really done all of what he was now recounting, but he’d never known him to be a liar. Quirin had, of course, forgiven Varian completely. He could see just how much he had changed, as well as how hard he was trying to continuously make up for his actions.

To him, that was more than enough.

The same could not be said of everyone else in Corona, though. On several occasions, Quirin would be stopped by whispers in the streets, their accusing tone directed towards him as he made his way through the kingdom.

“Is he really your son?”

The words had a bite to them, their sharpness fuelling the anger that was building inside of him.

Did they not see that Varian had redeemed himself? That he had suffered enough already? Of course they didn’t; they only saw the crimes that he’d committed.

Quirin couldn’t blame them for their resentment, yet his heart ached with every insult that was hurled at his son’s name.

-

At age seventeen, Varian proved his worth to the entirety of Corona.

He had helped save the kingdom from Zhan Tiri, and gained the title of Royal Engineer. Now, the alchemist was using his scientific expertise to help the citizens to the best of his ability.

 _Sure, there were still explosions every now and then,_ Quirin thought as he put an arm around his son, laughing at the green goo that now covered both of their faces. _But Varian had grown._

He was no longer that reckless kid with the tendency to inadvertently self-sabotage. He was more mature now, and Quirin was amazed at how much he was growing with each passing day.

He would still get that question, the one from long ago.

“Is he really your son?”

This time, though, the words didn’t ooze of curiosity, bewilderment, wariness, or even anger; they were filled with awe.

People were wanting to know if this teenaged boy — the genius who had deciphered the Demanitus scroll, stopped the red rocks with his solution, helped defeat Zhan Tiri, and had now managed to deliver hot water to the citizens of Corona — was related to him. It wasn’t a matter of Varian being _his_ son anymore; it was more that _he_ was _Varian’s_ father now.

People no longer questioned whether the boy had a familial connection to _the great village leader._ Instead, they were surprised to find out that _a mere member of the Brotherhood_ was the father of such a well-known and gifted scientist.

“Is he really your son?”

Now, whenever Quirin was asked those five words, he never hesitated for a second.

“Absolutely,” he’d say. _And I’m pretty dang proud of him._

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “... Quirin hugging his son, whose breaths hitched as his trembling form clung to his father’s waist as if he feared he would slip through his fingers in an instant.”
> 
> YEA. I totally made a low key reference to the nightmare sequence from my TTH fic.  
> Flashbacks to Ash!Quirin 
> 
> I am so sorry xD


	2. safe haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✧ Prompt #2: Alchemy

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 _Clink_.

 **CRASH**.

 **_Boom._ ** ****

Varian looked down to the ground, his goggles — which, for once, were covering his eyes — smeared with the gelatinous mixture that had shot out from the dropped beaker. Green smoke clouded the room, and shattered pieces of glass lay at his feet in an inelegant heap.

He sighed. _Well, that didn’t work._

Varian really thought he’d had it this time. But alas, his Flynnolium refused to cooperate with any of the solutions he’d attempted to combine it with. Creating a homogeneous mixture with the unstable liquid had proven more difficult than he’d initially thought; every solution he’d attempted to mix it with had resulted in some form of a chaotic reaction.

The only explanation Varian could come up with was that the Flynnolium’s explosive component appeared to be too great for any one substance to handle.

He sighed. _Well, back to the drawing board._

Just how long had he been at this? Varian stifled a yawn. Definitely long enough to be physically exhausted.

A day? A week? Probably more.

_Dad wouldn’t be too pleased with that._

Varian bent down and began to pick up the scattered bits of glass, wincing as a shard nearly pierced his glove when he grabbed at it carelessly. He really ought to be more careful.

He was older now; he should be wiser.

Varian now held the responsibility of living up to the title of Royal Engineer, and every day since receiving that distinction he was working harder than he ever had before, just to prove to everyone that he really _was_ deserving of their praise. Maybe it wasn’t healthy. Varian knew that.

But the irrepressible need to be validated by others — especially by those he had hurt with his vengeful actions — was _consuming._

Sometimes, he felt as if it were the only thing that mattered. That if he didn’t hear the words _great job,_ then, well, it meant that _he_ wasn’t good enough.

That he was a _failure,_ an irredeemable traitor who wasn’t worthy of the prestigious position he had been given by the Princess.

Varian sighed. In times like these, he would often turn elsewhere to displace his repressed emotions.

Namely, _alchemy._

But lately, it seemed that his frustration with himself only grew the more time he spent working on his scientific endeavours.

It was strange; Varian had always been able to find solace in his lab. Working with his instruments, his busy hands hugged by the comfort of his gloves as they worked tirelessly and with purpose, was when he truly felt at ease.

Alchemy was just so easy, so _simple._ There was always a logical explanation; things _made sense._ Where there was a question, he had always been able to find the answer using science.

…Right?

But then, why didn’t it soothe his nerves _now?_ Why wasn’t it filling him with that familiar sense of joy, of _passion?_

His body still crouched on the ground, Varian hesitated. _Because I’m wrong._

He _hadn’t_ always been able to find the right solution. Where was his alchemy when his father had been encased by the amber? It hadn’t been what freed him; that was Rapunzel’s magic.

But it _had_ been the thing that had trapped his father in the first place.

The amber hadn’t been some unknown hypothetical; _Varian_ had done that, with _his_ alchemy. _He_ was the one responsible.

He no longer felt content in his lab because he was terrified.

Varian was afraid of what his inventions could do, of what _he_ could do. He was less reckless in his endeavours now, because he was too scared to take risks. What if something malfunctioned? If there was an explosion again, and someone got hurt?

He thought he’d gotten over his post-amber fears after he’d stopped the red rocks from destroying Corona. Varian had been subjected to visions of his greatest fears — the return of the amber, losing his father, and the danger of his own experiments — throughout the entirety of his mission with Rapunzel, but he’d gone home that night feeling just a little bit lighter.

He had had no problems performing his alchemy after that, and things had gone relatively smoothly afterwards. At least they _had_ been going smoothly.

The minute his invention had shot off a stream of amber at his former friend, every bit of the emotional progress Varian had made up until that point had come crashing down on him. He could have sworn he’d heard the echoes of a shrill, demonic voice mocking his distressed state as he'd only stared, horrified at what he’d just done.

For the few seconds prior to the amber’s engulfment, Cassandra’s eyes had been wide with shock, betrayal painted clearly onto her features.

She had been hurt, and had then decided to take over Corona. _All because of him._

Despite his attempt to harness the power of science and use it for good, Varian had succeeded only in making things worse. Once again, alchemy had not been the solution to his problems.

His experiments no longer yielded that nostalgic sense of security he pined for, but a lurking fear he kept heavily guarded from others.

But Varian wasn’t too worried this time. He would get there, eventually.

After his father’s encasement, it had taken him a good amount of time to feel confident in his abilities again. But as long as it had taken, he had gotten there in the end.

All he needed was time.

“Need some help?”

Varian looked up from the ground, his blue eyes locking with contrasting dark ones. A towering figure loomed in the doorway, smiling down at him. His father.

Varian smiled.

Maybe he was simply going through the motions for now, experimenting just to maintain a sense of normalcy for his broken mind. Maybe alchemy no longer felt like the safe haven it once was.

But things would change; all he needed was time. Varian looked down at his hands, broken glass still cupped in his gloves.

Slowly, he placed the pieces back down onto the floor.

“Would you mind passing the broom?”

 _All he needed was time._

“Of course.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ಥ﹏ಥ)


	3. the tales of flynnigan rider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll try to do one every day," she said.  
> Ummm  
> Yeah. Good thing it wasn't a promise, I guess?? U_U
> 
> I'M SORRY AAAA!! School has been extremely overwhelming these last two weeks, & any spare writing time I've had I decided to dedicate to my other fics, unfortunately.  
> I just suck, oops ಠ_ಠ
> 
> Anyways here's Day 3 (on Day 13, LOL)!
> 
>   
> ✧ Prompt #3: Childhood

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 _He would soon come to realize that time, of course, waits for no one._

It had been several months now since Varian had officially gained the prestigious position of Royal Engineer. Day in and day out, he practically _breathed_ alchemy. He spent nearly every waking moment in the castle’s commodious laboratory, trying out some new experiment or drawing up plans for yet another invention. Week-ends, however, were an exception to this rule. 

Every second week, Varian and his father took turns making the trek between the lab and their Old Coronan home. While the young alchemist spent his weekdays in the capitol, Quirin continued to perform his duties as village leader. Despite seeing less of each other, the pair’s relationship still thrived, and the bond between father and son was stronger than ever before. 

This week, it was Varian’s turn to make his way back to Old Corona. He made sure to clean the lab and say his goodbyes to the royals before he headed out, scuffling past the castle grounds. In spite of his age, Quirin was not comfortable with Varian journeying to the village by himself.

The length of the trek as well as the risk of getting attacked by bandits was enough to put him on edge. Therefore, Eugene found himself tasked with accompanying the young alchemist on his biweekly trips, in order to ease the boy’s father. 

He didn’t mind, though. Eugene didn’t spend nearly as much time with the kid as he used to, seeing as how both he and Varian were preoccupied with their respective duties to the kingdom, so these trips gave them an opportunity to catch up. The alchemist and the captain of the royal guards met up at their usual spot in the main courtyard, where Maximus and an ink-black mare awaited them.

The pair mounted their respective horses, making their way towards the outskirts of the capitol as they chatted idly about their recent ventures. 

“So basically, it was only _after_ the explosion when I realized that, well, those two chemicals just _shouldn’t be mixed_ ,” Varian jabbered sheepishly. “It uh, wasn’t my brightest moment of the week.”

Eugene snorted. “You think? Kid, even _I_ know that something marked ‘Warning: Unstable Substance’ shouldn’t be messed with like that.”

“Hey! In my defense, I was tired... so I missed the label _completely,_ ” the teen muttered. 

Eugene’s brows furrowed, the implication of Varian’s words brushing against a recurring worry he held for the boy. “Look, kid, have you been doing ok? You know...getting enough sleep, eating regularly?”

Varian flinched slightly, his eyes widening in shock at the older man’s inquiry. Had he really been so obvious that _Eugene_ of all people was noticing his current state? He _had_ to stop being so careless.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!” Varian stuttered nervously. “Just the usual, ya know? Alchemy stuff, heh..”

Eugene was surprised. He’d never known Varian to be dishonest with him, not since they’d become friends, at least. He glanced at the young alchemist, taking note of the dark circles beneath his dulled eyes as well as the alarming pallor of his skin. This didn’t seem like _nothing._

“You’re lying.”

Varian’s grip on the reins tightened, his hands trembling within the confines of his gloves. He wasn’t the type to open up easily, but in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to pour out his emotions to the concerned friend riding beside him.

But would Eugene really want to hear about his problems? They would sound so trivial, so _pathetic_ compared to whatever he must be dealing with as Captain of the Royal Guards. 

So, Varian let that moment of hesitation pass in silence. 

“I’m fine, Eugene. Really.”

Eugene sighed, ignoring the pang of hurt he felt at the realization that _Varian didn’t trust him._ At least, not with whatever _this_ was. 

“If you say so, kid. Just, at the very least, take care of yourself enough so that you don’t have any more explosive mishaps.” 

“Will do,” Varian replied, a half-hearted smile playing on his lips. Noticing the boy’s discomfort as one of his hands began to fiddle with the strap of his goggles, Eugene decided to change the topic of the conversation. 

“Did I ever tell you about the time Lance and I were first arrested?”

And thus, he launched into the long-winded tale involving a man named Captain Quaid, a stolen cart, a questionable moustache, a basket of apples, and _a whole lot of mud._ Eugene rambled on, amping up the drama as he approached the climax of the story.

Varian was laughing, chiming in with the occasional sarcastic remark (“Why in the _world_ did you think that that would _actually_ work? That would have defied the laws of physics entirely!”) as he questioned the lack of intelligence clearly present in the thieving duo’s plans. 

Eugene and Varian spent the majority of the trip like this, riding towards their destination with the passing scenery acting merely as a background to their comfortable chatter. The theatrics eventually died down, as they were nearing the outskirts of Old Corona. Eugene grinned at the alchemist, whose snorts in relation to the most recent tale of a Rider/Strongbow fiasco began to subside. 

“Why’d you decide to take up the name Flynn Rider in the first place?” Varian asked, once he had calmed down. 

Eugene paused, momentarily thrown off by the sudden question. He thought about it for a few seconds before finally gathering his thoughts into a somewhat-coherent answer. 

“Growing up, I had nothing, aside from Lance. But this guy, the one who stole and plundered until he became rich enough to travel wherever he pleased...this guy had _everything._ And I mean, for an abandoned kid living in an orphanage on nothing but scraps, Flynn Rider became a sort of idol for me. Taking on his name made me feel like I could do what he’d done, and achieve all that fame and fortune.” 

Eugene smiled softly, chocolate brown eyes meeting twin pools of cyan. “But, as you already know, Rapunzel helped me realize that those things weren’t really what I had been searching for.”

He chuckled as he remembered younger versions of Lance and himself tucked into their beds at the orphanage, reading and re-enacting scenes from _The Tales of Flynnigan Rider_. “But you know, the books were always an important part of my childhood as well. My fondest memories are usually connected to those books, in one way or another.”

Varian, who had been so completely engrossed in Eugene’s heartfelt words, merely nodded in response before deciding to speak himself. 

“When I was younger, my dad used to read me those books to get me to sleep. They’re the only ones I can remember him ever reading to me, actually.” Varian laughed. “I’m not sure whether that’s because it was the only thing that calmed me down, or if my dad genuinely just couldn’t find any other books lying around.”

Eugene chortled at the thought of a frazzled Quirin trying to soothe his hyperactive son by reciting the iconic lines he himself had used so often during his Flynn Rider days. “Now that must’ve been a sight to see.”

“For sure,” Varian agreed. He smiled fondly at the hazy memories he had of the childhood he’d spent with his father. 

Eating ham sandwiches during their routine picnics in the grassy meadow not far from their house. Learning to read and write in the comfort of his father’s study. Playing games out in the field together, when Quirin had noticed that none of the other children seemed to want to associate themselves with his son.

 _Yes_ , Varian thought. _He’d always been there for me, no matter what._

But as the captain of the guards and the alchemist rode on, something nagged at the back of the boy’s mind. Despite how grateful he felt for the loving upbringing he’d had, he couldn’t suppress the feeling that there had always been something missing from it. He knew what it was, deep down.

But he refused to think about it, fearing that the acknowledgement would cement the confused sadness he’d hid for most of his life.

Varian knew what was missing, but it didn’t matter. Not now, at least. 

He had other things to worry about, things that were much more important than _another_ one of his trivial problems. Namely, his duty to the kingdom of Corona as the newly-appointed Royal Engineer.

He couldn’t let them down.

Although Eugene may have questioned his current physical state earlier, Varian knew that he was fine. _I’m just doing my part. So what if I’m a little tired?_

_Fatigue is nothing compared to what I’ve done to the people of Corona in the past._

This was his chance to prove himself for good; and Varian had no intention of messing this up. 

The lingering ache still remained, but he rode onward, Eugene right by his side as his home came into view at long last. He could ignore the feeling, for now. 

_His dad had always been there for him, no matter what._

Varian had to remind himself of that, hoping that the thought would be enough to quell any doubts that still remained.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've noticed a trend here...my "one-shots" are kind all like...connecting...
> 
> CLEARLY, even with a set of RANDOM PROMPTS, my brain seems to link these up into a single, multi-chapter story ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> They're still basically stand-alone one-shots but like...
> 
> who knows how long i'll hold out (ಥ﹏ಥ)


	4. portrait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why...why am I writing so much for these...
> 
> ✧ Prompt #4: Lanterns

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The final remnants of the day’s retreating light shimmered through glass windows, illuminating the appetizing scene within the Old Coronan home. Upon the surface of the oak table, plates filled with mashed potatoes, slim strips of meat, and vegetables greeted the two pairs of famished eyes before them. 

Father and son sat across from each other, their meals surrounded by clumsily-placed cutlery (arranged by Varian, no doubt) as they began to dig in. The sound of scraping knives mingled with the familiar chatter of the pair throughout the entirety of the dinner.

Varian rambled on about his latest alchemical endeavours, going into details so above Quirin’s level of scientific understanding that the man had already given up on following along. On the other hand, Varian often had to remind his own mind to focus on his father’s spiel about updated Old Coronan policies and farming developments. 

Although neither one of them could comprehend the other’s investment in their personal interests, they tried — oh, they _tried —_ to reach a point of mutual understanding. It had always been difficult for the two to relate to one another, but that fact was often overshadowed by the strength that their bond held. 

Halfway through the dinner, Quirin’s monotonous droning was interrupted by the flickering of candlelight coming from the center of the table. Four seconds later, the sudden darkness indicated that the candle’s flame had been snuffed out entirely. Even though the natural light from the windows had now ceased to exist, seeing as how the sun had finally set, the lantern from the kitchen still provided a sliver of light for the table’s occupants. 

Varian stood up almost immediately. “I’ll get another one,” he said. The amount of melted wax — which had now started to slowly leak onto the table’s surface — proved that the candle had clearly reached the end of its lifespan.

He had only taken a mere two steps before he was stopped in his tracks by the sound of his father’s voice.

“Wait,” he started. “Not the cellar.”

Varian paused. _What? But that’s the only place we keep them besides_ — 

“My bedroom’s closer.”

Varian gaped soundlessly as his muddled mind slowly comprehended the significance of those words. He was _allowing him_ inside of his room. The room that had previously been off-limits to him, the one he never dared get caught rummaging around in.

The room that held the pieces of his father’s life he had only recently become privy to. 

“I-I-uh, okay!” Varian stammered, nearly tripping over his own feet as he staggered towards the hallway. 

“Wait, son!” Quirin called after him. 

Varian skidded to a halt and nearly crashed into the nearest wall amidst his panic. _Did he change his mind after all?_

Quirin smiled, shaking his head at his son’s routine clumsiness. “I should have some in a drawer somewhere, check beside the bed.”

Varian could only nod mutely as he stumbled away in the direction of his father’s bedroom, all the while still in shock. When he made it to the doorway, he had to hold his breath as he prepared to cross the threshold. The last time he’d been in here, his father had still been encased in the amber.

He couldn’t remember exactly when, but _sometime_ during that ordeal Varian had spent what little time he’d devoted to sleeping inside that bedroom. He’d gone inside initially because he’d missed his father’s presence immensely; yet he couldn’t bear to face the amber-fied version that awaited him in his lab. 

He’d slept in his father’s bed during those lonely months, with the hope that the lingering familiarity of it would bring him comfort as he grieved. But alas, after the first month and a half, Varian had come to the realization that hiding in the past and waiting for help to come had proved to be inefficient. It was then that he’d decided he’d needed to take matters into his own hands.

He’d snapped out of his stupor, finally taking notice of the chest that lay exposed in one corner of the bedroom. 

Thus, Varian had discovered the ancient scroll piece his father had hidden away along with several foreign objects. Upon opening the chest, he’d been greeted with the sight of a helmet, pieces of armour, weapons, books, more scrolls, and various trinkets; most of which all bore an emblem surprisingly familiar to him. 

About a year later, his father told him about the Brotherhood. 

Quirin’s release from the amber had been an emotional experience for the both of them; Varian had flung his arms around his father and sobbed uncontrollably for nearly an hour, while a stunned Quirin had simply returned the embrace, his body not yet re-accustomed to physical contact. Not long afterwards, Varian had confessed to all of the things he’d done during his father’s absence.

But… he hadn’t been disowned. There had been no yelling, no reprimanding, no _“I’m so disappointed in you”_.

Instead, Quirin had pulled his son into another hug before sitting him down and opening up about his own past. His father had said that he was proud of him. That he _trusted_ him. 

Despite having heard those words so long ago, their implications were only hitting Varian now, as he stood there amidst the no-longer-unused furniture. The air wasn’t cold. There was no ravaging hail, no emotional blizzard inside of him. Not anymore. Varian could only feel an indifferent foreignty as his feet mindlessly carried him to the other end of the room. 

He rummaged through the contents of his father’s drawers before his hand grazed against the cylindrical wax he had been searching for. Varian pulled his arm out and, satisfied with his find, he began to make his way towards the room’s exit. He had only taken two steps before a flash of tame orange caught his eye, and his head turned to the left in order to identify the source of the distraction. 

Ice-blue irises landed on a painted woman on the wall. Even with her closed eyes, Varian could tell she was happy. Her head was tilted downwards to meet the baby cradled in her arms, and the smile she was giving him illuminated the entirety of the canvas. Varian had passed by the image on countless occasions before, never really thinking much of it. After all, he’d never even met his mother; he’d been but an infant when she’d died. 

But this time, something was different. The alchemist couldn’t pry himself away from the woman in the portrait. Her unseen eyes seemed to have an inexplicable pull on him, one he was finding near-impossible to break. Varian stiffened as a novel thought struck him.

What colour _were_ her eyes, anyway? Were they a piercing blue, like his? Emerald green? Warm chocolate, perhaps?

He didn’t know, because he’d never asked.

For as long as Varian could remember, his father had never been one to bring up the topic of his deceased wife. He dodged every question his son had asked, shutting them down with a firm “We’re not discussing this” and the occasional “When you’re older, Varian”. The boy had eventually grown accustomed to not knowing, but his intense curiosity was then displaced elsewhere; alchemy being a prime example.

He stared at the painting, mesmerized by the depiction of a perfect, happy family. A family that had only existed for a fleeting moment in time. And then, all he could see was the sun. 

Varian blinked, attempting to rid himself of the invading hallucination. Instead of dissipating, however, the flash of images became much more overwhelming. Everywhere he turned, _the sun_ was all he saw. The gleaming emblem of Corona seemed to follow him, taunting him as the golden rays blossomed on the portrait, the dresser, and the walls. Varian’s mind was spiralling. Just as he felt the onset of nausea settle in, the room stopped spinning, and he found himself confronted with a scene from years ago. 

Varian stood before a familiar body of water, blanketed by the darkness of the eve. Somewhere to his right, he could see the bricked bridge he had traversed countless times by now. The kingdom’s capital glimmered like a lonely beacon across the water. All of a sudden, Varian spotted the emergence of bright lights — a _swarm_ of them — floating upwards, in every which way.

He then turned to his left, and was met with _the sun_ once again.

A looming figure stood there, with a young boy of about six years of age held securely in his arms. The child’s tiny hands balanced a cylindrical object carefully, so as not to let it slip from his grasp. A beautifully-decorated lantern, bearing the symbol of Corona. 

The man took notice of the floating lights in the sky and addressed his son.

“You can let it go now, Varian.”

“Do I have to, Dad?” The boy protested, looking at the lantern with a hint of sadness. “But I worked so hard on it! It’s not fair.”

Quirin looked down at the boy with a reassuring smile. “Every year on this day, people send out lanterns, with the belief that they will guide the lost princess back home. The tradition was initially started by the King and Queen, for their daughter. But not everyone attributes it to the princess. For some, it’s simply a day of hope. For others, it’s a day of grief.”

He reached out with an enormous hand, softly patting the top of his son’s head. “You don’t have to send one, if you don’t want to. The choice is yours, Varian. The choice will _always_ be yours.”

The boy thought about it for a minute, his eyes darting between his prized possession and his father’s eyes. He shook his head, his expression now one of determination. “No, I’ll let it go. If it doesn’t help the princess, then maybe it’ll help someone else who’s lost, to find their way back home.”

And with that, the pair let go of the lantern together, watching as it slowly ascended into the sky and mingled with the oncoming horde. The boy laughed delightedly at the sight, his short arms reaching out to the lights in an attempt to catch them, as if they were fireflies.

With that final scene, Varian’s mind was whisked back to the present and he blinked to find himself still standing before the portrait on the wall.

He stared at the woman again, her painted smile etching itself into his brain. 

There it was again — that same feeling he’d experienced on his journey back to Old Corona with Eugene. He’d always felt like something had been missing in his life. Could it be that this was it? He didn’t have a single memory of his mother. That fact hadn’t truly bothered him until now because he’d been taught to suppress all of the curiosity he had regarding the topic.

Now, though, Varian could feel an inexplicable sense of sadness and regret wash over him, as he thought about just how little he knew. 

_“When you’re older, Varian,”_ his father had said. Well, he was older now, wasn’t he? Didn’t he deserve to know? 

He was thrust out of his thoughts at the sound of his father calling to him.

“Varian? What’s taking so long? The food’s going to get cold!”

Varian shook his head, breaking free of his trance at last. With one final glance backwards, he headed out of the room and down the hall. “I’m coming, Dad!” 

His emotions were in turmoil. He quietly fought a mental battle with himself, before his rationality won the war against his emotions. No matter how much it hurt, and no matter how badly he wanted to know, Varian knew he couldn’t ask. He’d seen the way his father had avoided his questions like the plague for _years,_ and how much the mere mention of his wife could hurt him. 

But it _wasn’t_ because Quirin was grieving over the death of a loved one. 

  
_No,_ Varian realized as he remembered the look on his father’s face as, year after year, he’d watched their lantern fly up into the heavens.

It was because he, like many others, still held out hope that his lost one would one day find her way back home and into his arms — no matter how impossible the thought was.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my baby ಠ⌣ಠ  
> ooOOps jus gonna sprinkle a lil...just a lil more angst in here...(¬‿¬)  
> also as you can see, i DIDN'T hold out. yep i've accepted this is all basically one story now yay me


	5. sweet strokes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So school is consuming me yet again..  
> I am 100% determined to finish these prompts, but I think I'll have to drop the delusion of having em done before the PO Calendar ends in a week xD
> 
> I'm on...Day 5...so...cripes
> 
> I'll just work at my own pace, I guess!:P 
> 
> ✧ Prompt #5: Sundrop

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Deep within the castle, the clanking of metal reverberated within the walls of the royal laboratory. Machines sizzled, the occasional burst of hot air mingling with the heat produced by Varian’s ongoing chemical experiments.

The alchemist in question was currently darting back and forth between the giant water tank and his work table, nearly tripping numerous times during the process. 

He had been working on his experiments with the Flynnolium when he’d gotten the request to take a look at the castle’s water tank. Since the laboratory had been created using the room that held the tank — Rapunzel, after all, had been the one to invent the position of Royal Engineer — displacement wasn’t an issue. The problems arised, however, when Varian’s stubbornness, as well as his need to please everybody in Corona, took control of him. 

In reality, he could have simply stopped tinkering with the tank once he’d found nothing to be wrong with it. Instead, he’d decided to draw up plans for possible improvements to the hot water system: larger tank sizes, a different concentration of Flynnolium, and upgrades to the water transport network. As if that weren’t enough, he’d decided to tackle this project alongside his various experimental ones.

Varian didn’t _need_ to go to such drastic measures, though. His title had initially been given to him as a way to honour him for his contributions to the kingdom; Rapunzel had never demanded anything of him.

It was Varian himself who’d made an appeal to the princess, almost _begging_ to put his skills to good use. 

-

“But Varian,” she’d smiled warmly at him. “You’ve done more than enough for the kingdom already.”

“Please, Rapunzel,” he’d pressed on. “Let me help! I know I can do so much _more_ for Corona.”

Varian had had to resist the urge to reach out to Rapunzel right then; the mere thought of physical contact in that moment had been painfully reminiscent of the last time he’d pleaded with her.

The circumstances may have been vastly different, but the looming walls of the castle hallway that they had been standing in was certainly an eerie-enough parallel to _that day_. Varian could almost hear himself yelling, the words _“My dad needs help!”_ echoing in his hazy mind as he’d watched his friend bite her lower lip in contemplation. 

“All right,” Rapunzel had agreed. “But! You have to promise not to work _too_ hard. Don’t spend all of your time worrying about Corona, and make sure to have _fun_ with your alchemy!”

The princess’ beaming grin was infectious, and Varian had felt most of his anxiety wilt away. 

_Most._

As the words tumbled out of her, Rapunzel hadn’t realized the singular term that had made its way into her response. 

“Of course,” Varian had answered. But he wasn’t one to believe in promises. 

-

Presently, the alchemist was still running across the laboratory every three minutes in a desperate attempt to multitask. Between the water tank and the Flynnolium trials, he was absolutely _exhausted._ Varian muttered under his breath as he noted down his observations regarding his latest failed experiment. 

“Okay, soooo that did _not_ produce the desired result. But that’s ok!” he reassured himself half-heartedly, staring at _yet another_ pile of glass shards on the table.

He glanced at the time and pivoted swiftly, already beginning to run as he made his way back to the water tank. 

“Knock knock!” a cheerful voice called from the doorway. 

“GAH!” Varian yelped. His right foot slid out from under him in surprise, and in his flailing panic his left arm attempted to grasp onto the work table for support.

Unfortunately for him, his arm only managed to graze its surface, swiping the beakers closest to the edge in the process and sending them tumbling down along with him. Varian groaned, blinking blearily from his spot on the floor as he propped himself up onto his elbows. 

“Whoops! Did I scare you?” Rapunzel asked worriedly. She had left the laboratory’s entrance now and was standing over the younger boy. 

“ _No._ ” Varian deadpanned. “Not at all.”

The princess giggled, extending her arm to pull him up. “Sorry about that!”

Varian accepted the help with a laugh and brushed himself off as he got to his feet. “Pssh, s’alright, don’t worry about it. What are you doing here, anyways?” 

“I come bearing cupcakes!” Rapunzel grinned, gesturing at the small platter she had set down on the work table. 

“Oh! I—er, thanks,” the alchemist responded in surprise. “But what I meant was, what did you need my help with? Some new invention? Is the crop-watering system working okay? Did one of the balloons malfunc—”

“No no, I don’t need your help with anything!”

Varian blinked. “Wait, what? Then why...why are you here?”

His expression morphed into one of horror, as a sudden thought struck him. “Is everything okay? Did someone get hurt? Did someone d—Eugene? Lance? My dad? Oh nononono, something happened to my dad, didn’t it? Is he—”

“Varian!” Rapunzel placed a delicate hand onto his left shoulder, which had already begun to shake. “Everything’s fine, you can relax. No one’s in any danger.”

“I—” The words stuck in his throat, his confused mind still trapped between processing the princess’ words and falling prey to his own imagination. _Everybody’s okay? Dad’s okay?_

He still didn’t quite get it, though. 

“Rapunzel I—If you don’t need my help, and if everything’s fine, then why…?” Varian trailed off as the remainder of his thoughts clogged up again before they could reach his tongue. 

“I already told you, I brought cupcakes! You’re always down here all alone...which is fine! I get it, you need to be left alone to get your work done. But I hardly ever see you anymore,” she sighed wistfully. “I miss spending time with you during your breaks. I know that you probably enjoy the guys’ company _way_ more than mine, but...we used to have fun together, and I miss that. I miss _you_ , Varian.”

Varian was speechless. Rapunzel hadn’t come down here for his alchemical expertise? She really just wanted _his_ company?

He certainly wasn’t expecting that, yet the realization sent a flurry of warmth coursing through his body. 

His muteness gave off a feeling of indifference to the princess, however, and she immediately assumed her intrusion had been unwarranted. 

“I get it, though! You have a lot of work to do, and you don’t need distractions. I’ll just leave these here.” She turned to make her way towards the doorway.

“Rapunzel, wait!” Varian called out. “It’s not like that, really! I just…” He paused. 

Varian didn’t want to tell her that he _hadn’t_ been blowing her off for Eugene and Lance, because then she’d question who he spent his free time with. And he knew he _definitely_ didn’t want to admit to her that the answer was _nobody._ Well, that wasn’t a _complete_ lie. Ruddiger was often with him, in his lab.

The real lie was that he didn’t _have_ any free time to spend with _anybody_ ; he had stopped taking breaks over a month ago. 

At first, Varian had simply cut down on the fun things: hanging out with Keira and Catalina, having cooking lessons with Lance, pranking Eugene, teaching Rapunzel the basics of alchemy…

But then, he’d started neglecting the outdoor walks he’d often take to relieve stress. What Varian needed was _time_. Time to work, time to invent, time to invest in helping the kingdom.

What he _didn’t_ have time for was leisurely activities. Even during the week-ends he spent in Old Corona with his father, he continued his experiments in his other lab. 

Recently, it had gotten to a point where Varian had begun to skip out on meals entirely. He needed time, and dinner wasn’t always a priority for him. Nor was sleep, most days. 

Rapunzel was still staring at him expectedly, and Varian realized he’d zoned out mid-answer. 

“I miss you too,” the alchemist finished lamely. “I’ve just been a little overwhelmed lately, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just eat!” Once again, Varian was unsurprised to find his mood immediately lifted as the princess’ smile emitted its usual radiant energy. 

After cleaning up the mess that had been the result of his earlier fall, the pair relished the sweetness provided by the frosted cupcakes. They chattered about their days, Varian’s ramblings about his experiments paling in comparison to Rapunzel’s embellished tales of royal life.

But talking to her was different.

With Rapunzel, Varian didn’t have to worry about dumbing down his explanations; the princess was well-versed in the sciences, and had no trouble keeping up with him. Aside from perhaps Xavier, she was the only one who could truly appreciate his alchemical endeavours. 

“So, yeah, the Flynnolium trials are still a bust. I just can’t seem to find the right combination of elements, since it reacts pretty badly to most things.” Varian summarized. His momentary distraction prevented him from suppressing the yawn he felt beginning to overtake his features. 

“Aren’t you tired? Varian, you should take a break,” Rapunzel urged worriedly. 

“Nah, I’m fine,” he reassured. “Didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.” _Didn’t sleep at all, more like._

“Nope, nuh uh. You need a break from all this work. And I’ve got _just_ the thing!” Rapunzel jumped up from the wooden stool and darted out of the laboratory in a blur of purple. Varian shrugged, and he continued to chew the morsel of food in his mouth.

Less than two minutes later, the princess bounced back inside the room, her arms overflowing with painting supplies. 

Unable to resist the urge to put his artistic skills to use, Varian gave in, and the two of them spent the next three hours plastering the walls of the dark laboratory with vibrant drawings. It had been a long while since the alchemist had had a chance to express himself creatively, and he’d forgotten how relaxing it felt.

The smooth strokes of the brush, the soft splatter of colour, and even the smell of the paint managed to whisk him away to a place where he no longer felt chained to his physical body and its heavy burdens. 

They’d nearly covered the entirety of the left wall when a soft knock came from the laboratory’s entrance. Varian and Rapunzel simultaneously turned to greet the newcomer, their paint-smeared faces meeting Queen Arianna’s amused gaze. 

“I see you two have been having fun,” she smiled. “Rapunzel, the Duke and Duchess are arriving soon. I think you might want to get _cleaned up_ beforehand.” Arianna chuckled, covering her mouth with a hand as she did so.

“Of course! I’m coming,” Rapunzel replied. She turned to Varian. “Good luck with your experiments, Varian! And remember to _have fun_ every once in a while, okay? Everybody needs a little break sometimes.”

“Okay.” The alchemist responded meekly. He tried his hardest not to avert his eyes away from hers, fearing that his betrayal would be evident if he did so. 

_You have to promise not to work_ **_too_ ** _hard._

Rapunzel hugged him and flashed one final grin before she headed to her mother’s side, and the pair left the laboratory together. The second they were gone, Varian’s face fell. In all honesty, he had felt _great_ during the painting session. He hadn’t once thought about the long list of work he had waiting for him, nor the deep-rooted emotions that seemed to leak out rather frequently during this past week.

His facade had only begun to waver once the spell had been broken, and Varian found himself alone again amongst his creations, watching as the figures of the Queen and Princess of Corona grew further away from him. 

He gazed at the two of them longingly from the shelter of his lab, as they laughed heartily at some unheard joke. For just an instant, Varian’s desperate and sleep-deprived eyes thought they caught a glimpse of something in the Queen’s expression. 

A brief flash of a smile, oddly reminiscent of the painted one that had etched itself into his mind just a few days ago.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm hungry & i want to eat cupcakes at 2a.m. now ಠ╭╮ಠ


End file.
